Carl Spackler

What an incredible Cinderella story. This unknown comes out of nowhere to lead the pack. At Augusta, he's on his final hole. He's about 455 yards away. He's going to hit about a two iron, I think. Well, he got out of that. The crowd is standing on its feet, here at Augusta. The normally reserved Augusta crowd is going wild. For this young Cinderella who's come out of nowhere, he's got about 350 yards left. He's going to hit about a five iron, l expect. Don't you think? He's got a beautiful back swing. That's - oh! He got out of that one! He's got to be pleased with that. The crowd is just on its feet here. He's a Cinderella boy. Tears in his eyes, I guess, as he lines up this last shot. He's got about 195 yards left, and he's gonna - looks like he's got about an eight iron. This crowd has gone deadly silent. Cinderella story. Out of nowhere. A former greenskeeper now about to become the Master's champion. It looks like a miraculous - it's in the hole! It's in the hole!

So I jump ship in Hong Kong and I make my way over to Tibet, and I get on as a looper at a course over in the Himalayas.

A looper, you know, a caddy, a looper, a jock. So, I tell them I'm a pro jock, and who do you think they give me? The Dalai Lama, himself. Twelfth son of the Lama. The flowing robes, the grace, bald… striking. So, I'm on the first tee with him. I give him the driver. He hauls off and whacks one - big hitter, the Lama - long, into a ten-thousand foot crevasse, right at the base of this glacier. Do you know what the Lama says? Gunga galunga… gunga, gunga-lagunga. So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, "Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know." And he says, "Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness." So I got that goin' for me, which is nice.

This is a hybrid. This is a cross, ah, of Bluegrass, Kentucky Bluegrass, Featherbed Bent, and Northern California Sensemilia. The amazing stuff about this is, that you can play 36 holes on it in the afternoon, take it home and just get stoned to the bejeezus-belt that night on this stuff.

Licensed to kill gophers by the government of the United Nations. A man, free to kill gophers at will. To kill, you must know your enemy, and in this case my enemy is a varmint. And a varmint will never quit - ever. They're like the Viet Cong - Varmint Cong. So you have to fall back on superior intelligence and superior firepower. And that's all she wrote.

Oh, Mrs. Crane, I'm looking at you… You wore green so you could hide. I don't blame you - you're a tramp! Ooh! That was right where you wanted it! Ooh Mrs. Crane, you're a little monkey woman you know that? You're a little monkey woman… You're lean and you're mean and you're not too far between either I bet, are ya? Would you like to wrap your spikes around my head?